


what a wicked thing to do (to make me dream of you)

by sarahcakes613



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Gratuitous Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 07:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19695289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Chris checks in on Isaac in France. For this one night, he can have it all.





	what a wicked thing to do (to make me dream of you)

**Author's Note:**

> A few months ago, JR posted an Insta story where he was singing Wicked Game. Then, my brain was like "Chris Isaak...Chris/Isaac..." and I decided it was fate that I write a Chrisaac story using Wicked Game as the inspo. #shrugemoji

He texts Isaac when he lands at Charles de Gaulle, a quick _just got through customs, heading to train now_. The reply pings through when he is on the RER, _i’ll probably still be at work when you get to the house. spare key’s in the lockbox if you don’t have yours, code’s the same. see you in the morning._

It’s nearing on 22h00 when he finally gets to the house, not terribly late but he’s been travelling for the better part of a day and he’s a shit sleeper on planes. He should stay awake until Isaac gets back, knows the beta will want to hear his latest tale of heroism and derring-do. Or rather, as his aching shoulders can attest, his latest tale of thinking that it might finally be time to retire from the action and stick to the paperwork side of weapons dealing.

They’ve got a routine fairly well sorted by now. Chris and Isaac float in and out of each other’s lives like orbiting satellites. At least, that’s the way Chris likes to see it, like it’s a mutual thing, both of them floating, like Isaac isn’t a sure thing living a settled life that Chris comes along and upheaves a few times a year in the guise of a check-in.

He’s just glad he got through this last hunt basically unscathed, it’s always harder to face Isaac with injuries, harder to sit still and be fussed over by a boy the same age as his daughter would – as his daughter _should_ be. It’s hard enough as it is, the way he is drawn back here over and over, trying to fill the sick emptiness in his heart with a love he doesn’t deserve from a fatherless boy. He sees Allison’s face in his dreams, the disappointment clear in her eyes, but it never stops him.

Chris kicks off his shoes, shucks off his pants and shirt, crawls into Isaac’s bed. There’s a second bedroom for guests, but he doesn’t see the point in pretending when he knows exactly where he’ll end up before the night is through. He buries his face in Isaac’s pillow, his human nose still able to pick up a faint trace of the smell that signifies _Isaac_ , burnt sugar and ginger. He lies there breathing it in until he falls asleep.

The stars are up and the moon is shining clear through the window when Chris wakes up a couple of hours later. It’s a slow trickle from sleep to awake, he inhales deeply and that sugary ginger smell is directly under his nose now. He paws at the space next to him, eyes still closed, and his fingers touch soft hair. He blinks, opens his eyes, and is looking directly into the beta gold of Isaac’s eyes. Isaac blinks his eyes back to blue, smiles, a small shy curve of the lips. He always starts this way, cautious, partially shifted, waiting for this to be the time Chris turns around and goes back to sleep.

Chris opens his arms instead, and Isaac burrows himself into Chris’s chest, nuzzles his nose into the hollow at the base of Chris’s throat. It’s half desire and half a need to scent, to cover Chris with the smell of _home, safe, claimed_. They lie together in the dark, Isaac trying to use the steady thump of Chris’s heart as a metronome to slow his own breathing down. It doesn’t work, it never does, the close intimacy of their positioning instead keying Isaac up until his nuzzling turns to a sinuous full-body roll against Chris. He is pressed against Chris chest to knees, and Chris can feel Isaac’s hard-on pushing insistently at his thigh.

Chris strokes Isaac’s curls, damp from the shower. He runs his hand down Isaac’s neck, down the curve of his shoulder, strokes his forearm lightly. He lets Isaac take the lead for now, always does at the start, lets Isaac take what he needs to know he is in safe arms. He’d rather shoot himself with his own bullets than intentionally hurt the boy in any way he hasn’t asked for.

He doesn’t always ask. Ofttimes it is all soft caresses and kisses and slow trembling thrusting. Other times, it is frantic, Isaac riding Chris with abandon, jerking his hips like he’s about to come out of his skin. Sometimes though, sometimes he asks, begs Chris to pin him down and take his pleasure, to redden skin with his beard and the palms of his hands.

Isaac brings his lips up to Chris’s, kisses him lightly, then slightly firmer, running his tongue along the seam of Chris’s lips until they open. Chris groans into Isaac’s mouth, hands on the beta’s hips, he rolls them both so Isaac is straddling the hunter. He rolls his hips, pushing the length of his rapidly hardening cock against Isaac’s ass.

Isaac leans down, mouth open in a silent pant, hovering above Chris’s face. This close, Chris can smell alcohol on the beta’s breath, wolfsbane and whiskey. It’s going to be one of those nights, then. Isaac doesn’t drink often, and rarely with the added wolfsbane to give him that tipsy feeling. He only does it when he needs something specific from the older man, when he needs the give-and-take of their couplings to be less balanced. When he needs to be taken care of, and it kills Chris that the boy is so broken that he needs liquid courage to ask for what he deserves every damn day.

Chris lies there, letting Isaac grind against him, waits patiently for Isaac to say something. The beta tips his mouth against the shell of the hunter’s ear.

“I missed you, daddy.”

Chris arches his back, thrusts up against Isaac, letting the boy feel how hard he is.

“I missed you too, baby, but I’m here now.” His voice is gravelly, pitched lower than normal, because he knows how much his baby boy loves it, how the deeper tone of voice sends shivers down Isaac’s back.

The boy sighs happily, nuzzling again at Chris’s neck. Chris tilts him up, sits himself up, arms supporting the boy in his lap. He tugs gently at Isaac’s curls, pulling his head back and kissing the corner of his mouth. His hands are in the small of the boy’s back, lifting and arching him slightly so that Chris can focus his attention on the boy’s chest.

He points his tongue, dragging it around and over one nipple repeatedly before fastening his mouth on it and sucking hard. Isaac gasps, a sharp intake of breath as Chris gently grasps the swollen nub in his teeth, nibbling at it and then soothing the bite with his tongue. He keeps at this, alternating back and forth between left and right until Isaac’s nipples are puffy and red, shiny with saliva. His lips are flushed, swollen from where he’s been biting them, and Chris kisses his mouth again, covering the beta’s bite marks with his own.

“Daddy, daddy, please, I need you naked, wanna feel you.” Isaac cries, writhing as he tries to rub himself against Chris’s cock. His head is thrown back, his pale neck flushed with arousal and desperation.

They are both dressed only in their briefs and Chris can see a steadily growing patch of damp fabric on Isaac’s where the head of his cock is leaking. His own briefs feel tight, too tight, and it takes a few minutes for him to divest them both of their pants without dislodging Isaac from his lap. Released from fabric confines, Isaac’s cock juts out from his body. It’s hard and red, and when Isaac leans in, it rubs against Chris’s hipbone, against his stomach, leaving a trail of sticky precum in its wake.

Chris runs a hand through Isaac’s hair, down to the nape of his neck, squeezes, digs his nails in an imitation of an alpha’s bite. Isaac whines, his whole body tensing and then going limp. Outside this room, Isaac’s alpha is a pleasant enough French woman of indeterminate middle-age. In this room, Isaac’s wolf recognizes Chris as it’s alpha, and he delights in the freedom it gives him to bite and claw at Isaac, to mark him up in ways that will only heal slowly overnight instead of immediately.

Chris loves every iteration of Isaac that he gets to be with, but this Isaac is one of his favourites, when the boy is down so deep he is barely verbal, responding so beautifully to everything Chris says with sighs and gasps and pretty little moans. He pushes back his prickling conscience and tells Isaac all the things that have been building up in his throat.

“You feel that baby, you feel daddy’s cock against your ass? I’m so hard for you, fuck, I can’t wait to fuck your tight little hole sweetheart, daddy’s going to give it to you so good.” He grinds up against Isaac, his cock, slick with precum, pushing up into the crease of the boy’s asscheeks.

“Want that daddy, wan’ it so bad.” Isaac whimpers, his voice breaking at the end as he pushes back against Chris, one hand reaching back to pull his cheeks apart. The tip of Chris’s cock catches on Isaac’s rim and pops in, not even an inch, but enough that Chris can feel the slippery lube waiting for him there. His mouth goes dry, Isaac must have prepped himself in the shower. He shudders at the image in his mind, Isaac leaning against the wet tiles, working his narrow fingers into his hole one at a time until he is open enough for his daddy’s thick cock.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, you filthy little thing, did you open yourself up for me already? Were you in the shower working your tight ass open so you could just slide right onto my cock?”

Isaac whimpers again, nods jerkily. “I didn’t wanna wait, wanted it too bad daddy.”

“Well, don’t I always give my baby what he wants?” It’s a rhetorical question, one neither of them will ever try to answer because it’s not true, not really, not when Isaac wants safety and domestic affection and Chris doesn’t allow himself to want either of those.

He does allow himself this, though, in the meantime, and he slides Isaac up off his cock and then down again, thrusting up on the down so that his entire cock is sheathed in the beta’s ass in one move. He does it again, lifting Isaac up and off him completely, and then shoves him down onto his cock, impaling the boy on his length. Chris is lying back in a way that allows him to watch his cock disappearing into the boy’s ass as he pumps his hips. Isaac flexes his abs, drops his thighs, and Chris can tell by the look on the boy’s face that he’s positioned himself so that his prostate is being nailed with every thrust. Isaac’s eyes are closed, his mouth slack, punchy little breaths falling out as he rides the hunter.

Isaac’s body is one long fluid line of desire, undulating as he fucks himself down on his daddy’s cock and like with every time this happens, Chris is overwhelmed with the beauty and grace that shines through Isaac’s desperation.

Before and after, Chris spends too much time self-aware of the bad-wrong nature of this, knows a better man than he would step away from the situation. During, though, he can’t find it in him to care, not when Isaac is riding him like it’s his reason for existing. He licks the palm of his hand, reaches down for Isaac’s cock, but Isaac bats his hand away, shaking his head.

“No, I don’t want – I want to come on your cock daddy.” He stutters out, and Chris groans.

“Fuck yeah, you can do that baby, you fuck yourself on daddy’s cock until you come.” Chris throws his head back, enjoying the wet hot tightness enveloping his cock, the slap of Isaac’s ass hitting his thighs with every push down. He rubs one hand along the small of Isaac’s back, dipping his fingers down into the crease, trails them around the rim of his boy’s hole, spread open for him.

His other hand moves down Isaac’s leg, stroking at the soft pale skin of his inner thigh. He pinches it, holds and lets go, watches the skin pink up and stay that way. He does it again on the other side, and Isaac’s breath hitches, he is so close now.

“Come on Isaac, come for me baby, I know you want to.”

Isaac is shaking his head again, and his voice is unsteady.

“I can’t – daddy, I can’t, I need you to touch me.”

Chris tsks, clicking his tongue. “I don’t think so baby, you said you didn’t want my help, you said you were going to come on my cock and you didn’t need me to touch you.”

The beta is crying now, his eyes shiny as a few tears leak out of the corners of his eyes. “’m sorry daddy, ‘m sorry, I need your help, please, I can’t – “, he has not stopped moving, shoving himself down hard on Chris’s cock, his body shuddering as he tries to force his body to an orgasm.

Chris takes pity then, wraps a hand around Isaac’s cock, still red, precum beading at the tip. He rubs the pad of his thumb over the tip to spread the liquid, and Isaac’s whole body twitches like he’s being electrified. It only takes a handful of rough strokes and Isaac is keening, a high-pitched wail, as he comes, shooting ropes of sticky white across Chris’s chest. He clenches down as he comes, tightens around Chris and Chris is close, so close, but this moment is about Isaac. He continues jerking Isaac through the aftershocks, keeps going until the boy gasps out a plea to stop.

He runs his fingers up through the mess on his chest and brings them up to Isaac’s mouth. Isaac laps at it, sucking each finger into his mouth, pink tongue darting out to catch every drop on Chris’s hand. His whole body is limp now, moving with Chris’s rhythm. Chris pulls Isaac off him, tumbling him onto the bed.

“Get on your knees baby, spread those cheeks for daddy.”

Isaac shifts onto his front, lowers his upper body to the bed and reaches back to hold himself open. His weight rests on his shoulders, cheek pressed into the pillow.

Chris slides his cock back into Isaac, watching Isaac’s hole open for him, the way it grips him so tightly. He curls his hands around Isaac’s hips, fingers pointed to mimic claws, and starts thrusting harder, driving his cock into the boy with enough force to send the headboard banging into the wall. Isaac clenches his muscles, squeezing Chris so tightly he sees white spots in his vision and he can feel his orgasm building like the crackle of thunder. He leans over, blanketing the length of Isaac’s torso with his own, and mouths at the nape of Isaac’s neck. He bites down hard, his dull human teeth digging into flesh, and Isaac wails again as Chris finally comes, pulsing hot into his boy’s ass.

He doesn’t move for a few minutes, licking at the fresh bite and enjoying the feeling of his cock gradually softening in Isaac. He slips out eventually, and sits back on his haunches to watch as his cum slowly drip out of Isaac, down his balls and thighs.

It hits him all at once, the satiety making way for regret, but he shoves it down and out of the way. Isaac doesn’t like cleaning up right away, likes falling asleep still full of cum and sticky with sweat. He collapses next to Isaac, draws him in, Isaac the little spoon against his chest.

“How long are you staying?” Isaac asks quietly. They both know the answer will never be long enough to satisfy.

“I’m leaving after lunch tomorrow; I have a crew waiting for me stateside for a case.”

Isaac hums, turns around, kisses Chris’s mouth. He’s asleep within minutes, his breath steadying out as his wolf is soothed by the smell of alphadaddyhome.

As he lies there, nose in the boy’s hair, Chris tells himself it won’t happen again. Chris tells himself that this time, he’ll stay away. Chris has always been an excellent liar.


End file.
